


Lost and Found

by Avocados-in-Love (Zorro_sci)



Category: Daredevil (Netflix)
Genre: And angry accusations, Angst, Canon Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Matt is the man without fear . . .unless Foggy is in danger, Post-season 2 fix-it, Protective Foggy, Protective Matt, sappy declarations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-07-28 09:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7634776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zorro_sci/pseuds/Avocados-in-Love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nelson & Murdock closed its doors, and Matt and Foggy haven't spoken since.  That doesn't stop Foggy from getting kidnapped, or Matt from becoming a basket case when he learns of Foggy's disappearance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who is the Daredevil?

_Do they really think this will make me more likely to help them?_ Foggy wondered as his captors continued to use him as a punching bag. 

So far, he had been very uncooperative, but he didn't really see why they thought they would be met with anything but resistance. Especially after they had cornered him on his way home from work, and brought him to wherever he was against his will. 

Blindfolded and tied to a metal folding chair, he had yet to give them any useful information, despite their incessant questioning, and they were losing patience with him.

"Perhaps you are ready to tell me now. Who is Daredevil?" 

"The vigilante, or are you looking for Evel Knievel, because I think he's dead," Foggy replied with mock confusion.

The man who had questioned him slapped him across the face so hard, Foggy saw stars behind the cloth over his eyes.

"Who is the Daredevil?"

"I think his son Robbie is still alive, but it's been awhile since he performed any daring feats. . . .ophmf!"

This time, his smart reply earned him a punch in the stomach.

"Who is the Daredevil?"

"What makes you think I know? Do I look like the type of guy who spends time with an idiot in a mask?"

There was no immediate response, only the sound of retreating footsteps. Foggy briefly wondered what was happening, but a moment later his tormentor returned.

 _Crack!_

_Oh! Baseball bat,_ his mind supplied as intense pain shot through his ribcage, and he swallowed a wounded moan.

"Your firm, Nelson & Murdock, they worked with the Daredevil. You must know who he is."

"Nelson & Murdock is closed . . . and I never really saw Daredevil. . . .he just left documents for us."

Foggy took a deep breath, trying to power his way through the pain in his side and recenter himself, only for the bat to connect again and startle a yelp out of him.

"You lie!" the man with the bat yelled as he loosed another heavy blow on Foggy's side, temporarily winding him.

"Yeah . . .okay . . . .that hurts . . . .but . . . .if you keep that up . . . you'll kill me . . .and then . . ..I won't be able . . . to answer . . . .any of your questions," Foggy cautioned between pained gasps, barely managing to form the words through the fire in his ribs that crested with each breath.

He was perfectly aware that he was tempting fate. A statement like that was just as likely to compel them to end him right then and there as it was to stop them, but honestly, the only way this ended was with Foggy dead. Whether he told them what they wanted or not, they were going to kill him, ( _Unless Matt finds me before they get the chance,_ he thought, but quickly pushed the idea aside; there was no need to give himself false hope), of that he had no doubt. He might as well make things as difficult for them as possible along the way, (there was absolutely no way he was giving up Matt; no matter what they did to him).

"You're right, Mr. Nelson. It would be a pity to end our time together too soon. . . We have far too much to discuss."


	2. Missing

_Marci, Marci, Marci_

"Marci, what's going on?" Matt asked as he picked up his phone.

His tone was slightly brusque, despite his best efforts to sound neutral. He and Marci weren't really friends, they had each other's numbers in their phones as a holdover from days gone by where they studied together and were civil for Foggy's sake. If she was calling she probably wanted something . . .or something was wrong.

"Please tell me you and Foggy went out and got drunk last night, and he's sleeping it off on your couch completely unaware of the time," she replied in a rude rush, (that was maybe concealing concern?).

"Foggy isn't here," Matt answered slowly. "What would make you think he is? I'm assuming he told you that we fell out. I haven't seen him since we shuttered Nelson & Murdock."

His admission felt sour on his tongue, but the feeling was secondary to the dread that started to creep into the pit of his stomach. It appeared Marci was calling because . . .best not to assume anything. He should hear her out.

"He told me, but I was hoping you two had a tearful and drunken reunion last night, that ended in him too shit-faced to know his own name, much less the time. . . . 

He's not at work. He missed an important meeting. He didn't call in. He won't answer his phone. . . I haven't stopped by his apartment yet, but I have work to do, and I thought the only reason he would blow off work entirely was if he was with you. You're the only one who's ever mattered so much to him that he would blow off anything and everything else.

Besides, I thought maybe some of the infamous Murdock unreliability that Foggy complained about had rubbed off on him once he got back into your orbit."

The insult barely registered below the growing panic in Matt's chest. Foggy was missing. He wouldn't skip out on work. Not without calling to explain his absence. Even when they had worked at Landman & Zack, and he had hated every minute of it, he was always reliably at work, on time, towing Matt along with him.

"When did you last see him, Marci?" he demanded, his worry overriding any shred of civility he might have had.

"Last night at around seven-thirty, when he left work," she answered unfazed by his rudeness, (she didn't even comment on it or return it in kind, which was probably a testament to just how worried she was too).

"I'm going to go by his apartment, and if he's not there, I'll start looking for him. . .we can't file a missing persons report until he's been gone twenty-four hours, but hopefully it won't come to that."

"There's no 'we' in this, Murdock. You can do whatever you want, but I just wanted to check Foggy wasn't with you before I have to face Hogarth. She's not going to be happy that Foggy's gone MIA."

Matt wanted to snap that he could care less what Hogarth, or anyone else, thought about Foggy's absence in the face of the much larger issue that he could be hurt, or in danger, or . . . . (not going there). He wanted to rage that if she cared about Foggy, she would want to find him more than she wanted to find the right words to explain the situation to her boss. He wanted to scream and yell, but he somehow managed to hold his tongue. 

Marci seemed to hear all he didn't say anyway. She sighed softly and then continued in a whisper.

"Let me know when you find him."

In those seven words, she let her guard down. She let her worry and concern for Foggy shine through without any sarcasm or harshness to hide their depth, and then as if ashamed by the display of weakness, she immediately hung up.

She did care, Matt reminded himself. That was why she called in the first place. That was why he had always tolerated her, even though she was all harsh edges and pointed comments and unrestrained, savage ambition. Despite her flaws, she genuinely cared about Foggy, and that was enough to overlook a multitude of sins. He could never fully hate anyone who loved Foggy. It was impossible.

On the other hand, anyone who meant Foggy harm had better be prepared to face the full wrath of Matthew Michael Murdock and the devil inside him. Threatening Foggy was an inexcusable offense; hurting Foggy unforgivable. If someone had taken him, Matt would make them suffer in ways they had never even imagined. . .but it was too soon to be jumping to conclusions. Kidnapping was just one of several (horrible) possibilities, and he should gather information before he made any assumptions. With that in mind, he rushed over to Foggy's apartment.

At three blocks away, he tried to focus in on Foggy's heartbeat. Normally he would be able to hear it from that distance, but this time he couldn't find it. Moving quicker with the uneasiness that brought him, he sprinted the final blocks and vaulted up the stairs to the familiar door.

Hands shaking, he used his key, (which he hadn't returned after he and Foggy closed their practice and effectively ended their friendship, despite the fact that he probably should have), and let himself into the familiar space. 

Everything seemed peaceful and normal inside the apartment. Everything appeared to be in its place, in every room of the small living space. The rooms were filled with the familiar smell of Foggy's shampoo and cleaning products, takeout food, and Foggy's natural scent unmarred by the coppery smell of blood, or the sour smell of bile and sickness, or the acrid stench of fear and adrenalin. If Foggy had been injured, or fallen ill, or was taken captive, it hadn't happened there.

In fact, the only thing that seemed off, was that the scent of Foggy's sleep sweat on his bed was faint and stale, as if he hadn't slept in it for a day or two, and the most recent addition of leftovers to the fridge was a little over a day and a half old. It seemed likely that Foggy had never made it home the night before, but that left Matt with little to work with. 

As far as he knew, Foggy didn't have a girlfriend he might have stayed with, and if Marci hadn't seen him since he left work the previous evening, he hadn't spent the night at her apartment either. It was possible, that Foggy had gone out the previous evening, and gone home with someone, but the odds were against it. (Not only was Foggy unlikely to go out to a bar midweek, and certainly not to get drunk, but he was even less likely to let some random stranger bring him back to their home if he wasn't plastered.) But regardless of where he spent the night, he would have gone into work the following morning.

That was the crux of the matter. Foggy wouldn't just not show for work. If he wasn't there, and he didn't call, it meant that he _couldn't_ be there for some reason, and that was the knowledge that chilled Matt's blood as he steeled himself to continue his search.


	3. I won't betray him!

At the moment, all Foggy knew was pain. His captors did their best to make sure of that. They mixed the dull throbbing pain of blows with fists and bats, with the stinging pain of electrical shocks, and the sharp, biting pain of belts and knives.

They were relentless, barely giving Foggy time to recover from one attack before they brought on the next, though they always made sure he "recovered" enough to have the chance to speak, (which he never took), before they brought on the next assault. They were also careful to temper their attacks just enough that he never lost consciousness. 

As time went on, the continued abuse and sheer exhaustion had nearly caused him to pass out on a couple of occasions, but they merely splashed him with ice water. Then they waited until he seemed more coherent, and continued their assault.

Throughout their attacks, they whispered promises to him. The pain would stop, if only he told them what he knew. They would let him go, and it would all be over, if he just spoke Daredevil's name. This didn't have to continue. Why was he being so stubborn?

Honestly, there were moments where their words were tempting. The allure of an end to the pain was hard to resist. However, even when Foggy was nearly sure he couldn't take anymore pain, he never completely lost the knowledge of what telling them would mean. He never forgot that it would be betraying Matt, and signing his own death warrant. That knowledge was enough to keep him defiant, even as it grew harder and harder to breathe through the pain, or even to breathe at all.

 **Matt left you. He chose the mask over you, and left you to clean up the pieces; never thinking of how it affected you,** a poisonous voice whispered in the back of his mind after a particularly brutal blow left him breathless for well over a minute. **He doesn't care about you. He's left you all alone while you were hurt and bleeding before, and he never even batted an eye.**

**If you die here, he won't care, so why are you risking your life for him?**

_He saved my life at the DA's office. He cares,_ a gentler internal voice countered. 

**Then where is he? Why hasn't he come for you?**

_He probably doesn't know I'm gone yet._

**Because he _doesn't care._**

_Because I stubbornly cut all communication with him after we closed the practice._

**To protect yourself from him and his skewed priorities. You needed to get away from his unhealthy obsession with taking justice into his own hands by hunting down wrong-doers in a mask, and causing them pain. Playing Batman doesn't work so well in real life. It gets people hurt or even killed.**

**Besides, the one time that obsession might actually be worth something, where is he?!? He's certainly not here! He's not protecting _you_ from injustice, so why should you protect _him_?!?**

_Because I will always protect Matt! I decided that years ago, and I don't intend to go back on my choice; no matter what._

_My protection's not contingent on his behavior, or his choices. It's freely given, and I don't regret it!_

_I love him, and I'll protect him as long as I have breath in my body._

**That might not be much longer if you keep refusing to tell them anything.**

_They'll kill me even if I tell them. They won't let me go. Better to die with honor. Better to die protecting my Matty, than betraying him._

**Even after he betrayed you? Doesn't he have it coming?**

_"Shut up! Shut up! I won't betray him!"_

"Even if you'll die if you don't tell us?" one of his captors responded.

As Foggy made sense of the words, he realized that he had spoken the last thought aloud, (with a surprising amount of force, given how weak he was feeling).

"I won't betray him," he repeated resolutely, taking strength from the words.

"We'll let you go, as soon as you give us a name. Think about it. Surely he isn't worth this? All this pain?" another tempted.

"He is. I won't betray him. I won't betray him. I won't betray him," he repeated like a mantra, trying to drown out the promises of his captors and the poisonous voice in his own head.

He focused on the sound of his voice echoing back to him, spurring himself on with each assertion, and tried to maintain his resolve.


	4. Found

Daredevil stood listening on a rooftop. Concentrating was harder then normal, but more important than ever. Foggy was out there somewhere, and he needed to find him.

Matt had spent the afternoon searching hospitals and morgues for his friend. Each stop had been a dead end, and as grateful as he had been to not find Foggy at those locations, he felt a little more desperate after each failed attempt.

By three o'clock, the devil was itching to breakout and comb the streets for Foggy, but it was still the middle of the afternoon, so Matt decided to question Karen, Bess, and Brett about when they had last seen Foggy. Once again, his efforts were futile, since none of them had seen him in days or noticed anything different the last time they saw him. Worse yet, he only succeeded in worrying them too, (though Brett pretended not to care, his fear-accelerated heart rate, and his offer to put in a missing persons report before the twenty-four hour window had been met, said otherwise).

By five thirty he was desperate. He visited Foggy's favorite restaurants, coffee shops, bars and bakeries; and he walked along Foggy's favorite trails in the park. He passed by the building Foggy grew up in, and went to the site where Nelson's hardware store used to be. Unsurprisingly, nothing came of his search.

After what seemed like ages, the sun went down, and he could let the devil out. He donned his costume, and ran out onto his roof, feeling like a wild animal finally set loose from its cage. He could cover more ground this way. He could find Foggy.

Almost two hours later, he had yet to find anything that might lead him to Foggy. He growled in frustration, and continued his search, straining his ears in hopes of hearing something, _anything_ , that could help him.

_**. . .won't betray him! I won't betray him! I won't betray him . . .I . . .won't betray him . . I . . won't . .** _

Foggy!

That was Foggy's voice. He would know it anywhere. It was pained and desperate, and growing weaker, but it was _there_.

Hope renewed, and anger pulsing through his veins, he took off in a run. Whoever was making Foggy sound like that would get what they deserved, and Foggy would be safe.

He bounded from rooftop to rooftop until he found himself next to an abandoned building. Foggy's voice had gone silent while Matt was still en route, but he could hear Foggy's heartbeat inside the brick structure, (unmistakeable, despite its far too fast, weak fluttering), leaving no doubt he was in the right place.

There were four additional heartbeats inside, all gathered closely around the one that mattered, and if the other sounds coming from the building were any indication, the owners of those heartbeats were attacking Foggy.

Fueled by rage, Matt charged into the building like a runaway train. He barreled into the men he found inside, neither stopping nor slowing as he dealt out punishing blows, until he was the only one left standing.

Even then, his rage was not slaked. His hands trembled with the urge to do violence, to inflict enough pain to somehow right this wrong. These men had hurt _Foggy_ , and even breathing seemed too good for them.

He could crush their windpipes, or shatter their rib cages, or . . . .

"Matt?" a weak, familiar voice questioned.

With that word, they no longer mattered. He turned away from them, and toward that sweet voice, tugging off his gloves to gently touch its source.

"Foggy!" he cried desperately, as his fingers came into contact with skin that was clammy, and tacky with blood.

He dialed 911 with shaky fingers, throwing the phone to the side of the room with the line still open, as he knelt beside Foggy.

"You came."

The words were whispered, and sounded surprised; the wonder in them an indictment. Foggy doubted that he would come for him. He had fallen that far. The realization was a lance through his heart.

"Of course I came," he whispered back, as he began to untie Foggy from the metal chair he had probably been bound to for close to twenty-four hours.

"I d-didn't tell them who you are . . . I didn't tell," Foggy asserted in a whisper.

Matt choked back a sob, and managed to say, "I'm so proud of you, Fog. You were so brave. You did so well."

His fingers started cataloging the damage, running up and down Foggy's body. Broken ribs, shallow stab wounds, and too many bruises to count were just some of the damage. Serious internal bleeding was a near certainty, and Foggy was in hypovolemic shock. He seemed to be avoiding collapse by sheer force of will.

"I . . .was tempted . . .to tell them," Foggy admitted sadly, his words weak and gasping.

Unsure what else to do, Matt gathered him in his arms, and held him close.

"That's okay. They tortured you. It would have been okay to tell them Foggy, to stop them from hurting you. It would have been okay . . .but you didn't, because you're so strong. You're so strong, Fog."

"Not . . Okay . . .you-you . .don't . . .do that . . .to people . . .you love. . . I-I l-l-love you. . . I sh-shouldn't've . . .b-been tempted. . . . I-I'm . . .s-s-sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry," Matt answered desperately, but Foggy went limp in his arms as he said it. "You have no reason to be sorry, Fog. You don't need to be sorry."

A hard sob shook Matt's body, and he tried not to panic. Foggy was unconscious, but still alive for the time being; however it was becoming increasingly clear that he was losing this fight. He needed more help than Matt could give him, and Matt was too stunned to be much help at all.

Thankfully, that was the moment that two squad cars and an ambulance pulled up in front of the building. Matt sighed in relief. They would know what to do. 

He planted a quick kiss to Foggy's forehead, laid him carefully onto the floor, and then jumped out of the window. He would follow them from the rooftops, and then sneak home so he could show up at the hospital as Matt Murdock. It meant leaving Foggy, but it was the only way.


	5. Waiting

Matt paced the waiting room. There was no news, other than that Foggy had been taken directly to an operating room for emergency surgery upon his arrival because "he sustained several serious injuries," and Matt was growing impatient.

Logically, Matt knew that repairing all of the damage that had been done to Foggy would take time. The lack of news probably meant they were focusing on helping Foggy, and that was good. It also meant there was no bad news, which was comforting, but still was not enough to stop Matt from feeling like his muscles were guitar strings tightened to nearly the point of breaking. Nothing could ease that tension out of him, (except _knowing_ that Foggy was safe, and whole, and alive, and going to be fine).

As he wore a path into the floor, he wondered if he should contact Foggy's parents. It had to be around one or two in the morning, (he hadn't put on his watch, in his rush to change and return to the hospital), and he would almost certainly wake them with a call. However, if he didn't call them, and something happened to Foggy, they might never forgive him for denying them the chance to say good-bye to their son, ( _A moot point, because there are going to be no good-byes. Foggy is going to be fine!_ ).

What about Marci? She said that Matt should let her know when he found Foggy, but she probably didn't want him to call in the middle of the night. 

Bess, Brett, and Karen were all worried too, after Matt's earlier conversations with them. They would probably want an update, but once again, he didn't think they would appreciate such a late call. Especially when there was so little to tell. He didn't even truly know the full extent of Foggy's injuries or if he would survive surgery, ( _He has to!_ ), so it seemed cruel to drag them along with him in uncertainty. It would probably be better to call them in the morning when he (hopefully) had a better idea of what was happening.

Foggy's parents, though, deserved to know; right that second, without delay. They would care more about their son than sleep, and they would want to know.

Having a task helped focus Matt. It gave him purpose and direction, even as he dreaded making this particular call.

It never would have been an easy conversation, but on top of the difficult subject matter, Matt hadn't spoken to Foggy's parents since shortly after they started their practice together. In the past, Matt would join Foggy for dinner at his parent's house once every month or two, but since he had started his moonlighting as Daredevil, he had been too busy for family dinners.

How had his absence been explained? Did Foggy make excuses for him, or did he blame Matt? Even if he didn't blame Matt, could his parents see through whatever explanations he offered? Did they know how strained things had become between the two of them? Surely Foggy had told them that their practice went under; so they had to know something was going on. 

Did they know that he and Foggy had cut all ties? They used to jokingly call Matt their son-in-law when they thought they were out of his earshot, (which always did weird things to Matt's insides; he had never realized how much he wanted it to be true until the first time he overheard them), so they probably wouldn't take news of their separation well. (Separation, heh, even in Matt's own mind their falling out felt like a divorce). What if they hated Matt? What if they (somewhat correctly) blamed him for everything that had gone wrong between him and Foggy?

Would they even want to speak to him?

None of that mattered. They deserved to know. Foggy was hurt, and that meant everything else was secondary.

With slightly shaky fingers, he brought up the number for Foggy's parents. He tried to prepare himself for what he was going to say as the line rang, but no one picked. Instead, he got the answering machine.

"Uh, hi, Mr. and Mrs. Nelson," (he had called them Anna and Ed since the second time he went home with Foggy, but he felt like he had lost the right to call them that), "this is Matt. I'm, I'm calling because Foggy . . was attacked. He-he's in the hospital; in surgery right now."

His voice broke, and he choked on a sob, ( _Shut up! You have no right to break down! Especially not while you're leaving this message! They're his parents; you're nothing to him now. You don't get to be upset._ ), "They, uh, they said he has a lot of serious injuries," another, louder sob, "and, uh, I get the impression that they're not sure he'll survive this."

Matt nearly choked on the last words. He had been trying to deny them since he first arrived, but the reaction of the doctor who told him that Foggy had been rushed into surgery was undeniable. She had been nervous; trying to reassure Matt, even though she thought her reassurances were lies.

But Foggy's parents deserved the whole truth, so he continued around another sob, "Met-Metro General. Please come if you can."

With that, he hung up the phone, and resumed his pacing.

He needed an update soon, or he was going to lose his mind.


	6. Awake

The days after Foggy's surgery were a sleep deprived blur for Matt, who stubbornly refused to leave Foggy's side despite Karen, Bess, and even Marci trying to coax him away for a few hours, (and a passing comment from Brett on his 'official visit' [merely to gather intel about when Foggy would be ready to give a statement of course] about how he 'should get some rest' because he 'looked like shit'). On the rare occasions that one of the hospital staff wasn't charmed into letting him stay, and they did actually manage to kick him out, he just snuck right back in.

"Matt, you need to go home," Claire said gently. "It's been four days. I don't know how you managed to stay this long, but you need to get out of here. You need an actual meal, sleep, _a shower_ . . ."

"No," he said shaking his head. "I can't leave Foggy."

"I know you're worried-"

"'Worried'? He's in the ICU. I don't think 'worried' is a strong enough word."

"-but you still need to take care of yourself."

"So I should just leave him here? All alone?"

"There are doctors and nurses-"

"I can't. I can't do that to him."

She sighed and shook her head incredulously.

"I don't understand. Last time your friend was in the hospital, you wouldn't even leave your rooftop perch to say 'hi.' You didn't care that he was alone then," she commented in frustration.

Matt winced, and Claire sighed. She knew she was being unfair, but he could be so stubborn. She considered apologizing, but he spoke first.

"Last time I knew he was okay. This time . . . ." he trailed off and swallowed down the lump in his throat. "Things aren't so certain . . . and it feels like . . . .did you know I took the night off?"

"What?" Claire asked, confused by the sudden turn in the conversation.

"The night Foggy was kidnapped, I didn't go out. . . .back when we were still working together, I told Foggy that I couldn't take a night off, because people would get hurt . . .but Tuesday night I was tired. I'd spent weeks chasing the Hand out of Hell's Kitchen, and I thought that I deserved a break. 

So, instead of going on patrol, I went to bed early . . .and while I slept, four men took Foggy. They took him to an abandoned building where no one would hear them, they tied him up, and they tried to beat information out of him."

"That wasn't your fault, Matt."

"One night. I didn't go out one night, and it was almost too late by the time I found him the next night."

"Matt . . ."

"Foggy wasn't even breathing unassisted until yesterday! Who knows what could happen in the time I'm gone?"

"Okay, you're right. You can't know what will happen. But Foggy is breathing completely on his own, and the doctors are weaning him off of the heavy sedatives. Those are good signs, Matt. They mean he's healing."

"But what if . . ."

"Don't torture yourself with worst case scenarios.

Look, you want to be there for Foggy, right? Well, if you keep this up, you're going to burn yourself out, and you won't be much good to him. He'll need you at your best, and you're nowhere near that right now; more like two minutes away from needing a hospital yourself."

"Claire . . ."

"Don't Claire, me. Look, I didn't want it come to this, but it looks like I have no other choice. Matthew Murdock, you are banned from Metro General for the next eight hours. 

I posted a sign on the door, and left a note at the nurse's station. If anyone sees you here, they'll kick you out, and if you choose not to leave now, I'll have security escort you out."

"You really think security can make me leave?" Matt scoffed.

"Do you want to explain how an average, blind lawyer can fend off several trained security guards?" she questioned neutrally, but he could hear eyebrow raise in her voice, and they both knew she had pulled out the trump card.

"Okay, I'm leaving," he grumbled as he reluctantly made his way to the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When his temporary banishment was over, Matt returned feeling slightly more human, but no less worried. He rushed down the halls, only to be stopped by Claire.

"Hey, guess who's awake and alert?" she said cheerfully.

"He woke up while I was gone?" Matt asked, a frown taking over his face. "Was anyone there with him when he woke up?"

"There was a nurse with him as soon as we knew he was awake," Claire reassured. "We're taking good care of him."

"But did he wake up alone? 

Dammit, Claire, I was worried that would happen! Foggy shouldn't have to wake up disoriented and in pain with no one to comfort him! I knew I shouldn't have left!" Matt growled.

"Calm down, Matt. He's fine, and you _needed_ to leave. You'd barely eaten, you were falling asleep sitting up, and, honestly, you smelled.

Do you really think it would have been better for Foggy to wake up to that?! You were a disaster, and that would have just worried him. You still look a little worse for wear, but at least you're presentable.

Now go see your friend," she urged.

Matt was still unhappy with the situation, but he didn't need to be told twice. He hurried the rest of the way to Foggy's room, and gently opened the door.

"Matt," Foggy whispered as he entered the room.

"Foggy. You're awake," he responded, somewhat pointlessly, because he didn't know what to say.

"For the first time in four days, apparently," stated Foggy.

"How are you feeling?" Matt asked tentatively.

"Like the sedatives were a god-sent for shielding me from this for the past four days."

"I can go get someone if you're in pain. They can probably adjust your medication."

"I'm fine. I'm already getting the maximum dose they'll allow me. Besides, pain means I'm alive, right?"

Matt winced.

"I guess."

"Speaking of being alive; thanks for rescuing me, buddy. I know it's probably all in a night's crime-fighting for you, but I owe you one."

"You don't owe me anything."

"I'm pretty sure I owe you my life."

"You really don't. They took you because of me."

"That wasn't your fault. You didn't kidnap me, but you did save me."

"And you were surprised . . .Foggy, why were you surprised? Didn't you know I'd come?"

Foggy went silent, and there was his answer right there.

"Foggy?"

"We hadn't spoken to each other in a little over a month. . . ."

Matt opened his mouth to protest, but Foggy continued speaking over him, " . . . I know that was my choice. I could have tried to reach out, but I was hurt that you seemed so eager for me to cut all ties with you.

Telling me I could start over without you, Matty? That was a slap in the face."

Matt opened and closed his mouth a few times, but didn't know what to say. 'I'm sorry' didn't seem like enough, and 'I was trying to protect you' seemed trite and completely useless in light of recent developments.

"So I got stubborn, and I completely shut you out," Foggy continued. "My point is, you had no reason to notice I was gone. Why would you be looking for me? And if you weren't looking for me, why should I have assumed that out of all the crimes that happen in a night in Hell's Kitchen, you would notice me?"

"Oh Foggy," Matt mourned.

"I guess I got lucky, and your super ears heard me."

"It wasn't luck. Marci called me the morning after you disappeared. 

I spent the day looking for you, and when I didn't find you, I scoured Hell's Kitchen looking for you in the mask."

"Marci? She really does have a soul under that cold, unfeeling exterior. 

I kinda thought my parents would be the first people to notice I was missing . . . I mean other than Hogarth, but she would just fire me and move on without ever thinking about why I wasn't there. . .and by the time I missed Sunday dinner, it would have been far too late."

Foggy's words, and the matter-of-fact way he said them, hurt like a physical blow. No, not a blow, Matt could shake those off. Like the first time he faced Nobu, and he barely made it out alive.

Foggy thought no one would care he was gone for nearly a week, and that didn't upset him. He just accepted it, even when he thought that meant he was going to die before he was missed. That was so wrong.

Someone like Matt might be able to disappear without anyone looking for him, but that was because he chose to distance himself. He was a loner. He held people at arm's length, and he regularly pushed away anyone who got too close. The only person who had stayed long-term was Foggy, and he had even alienated him because he got too caught up in Daredevil and took him for granted.

Matt stayed in the shadows, and anything could happen in the dark, but Foggy was sunlight. That someone like Foggy, who gave so freely of himself and whatever he could offer, who treated everyone he met with compassion and respect unless he had a reason not to, could go missing and think that no one would notice was a sin. A mark against the goodness of humanity, that it could let one of the best people Matt knew disappear without noticing.

Matt wanted to scream all of what he was thinking, and rail against the injustice of it, but instead he said, "Speaking of your parents, I tried to call them to let them know what happened, but they aren't answering their phone. I've left three messages, but they haven't called back."

"Yeah, my sisters sent them on a cruise for their fortieth wedding anniversary. They won't be back until this Friday."

Wait . . .

"You thought it would be twelve days before anyone missed you?!?" Matt blurted incredulously.

Foggy shrugged, and then winced when the gesture clearly pulled at some of his injuries.

"I just shrugged," Foggy narrated, his voice still slightly pinched with pain.

"No, Foggy, no," Matt said, as he shook his head in denial.

"You're right, I should have known Marci would notice. I mean, she's a shark, no question, but she risked everything to help take down Fisk, and she helped me find a new job. She's not as heartless as she likes to pretend."

"Only when it comes to you, buddy. I've watched her kick people when they're down, and then walk over them and perforate them with her stiletto heels."

"You've never 'watched' anything of the sort!"

"You know what I mean. You bring out the best in her. That's what you do for people. . . That's what you did for me, too.

My life has been so much darker without you. I was stupid to push you away . . . .and I really hate thinking that I might have lost you and not even known it for almost two weeks. It's too horrible, Foggy," Matt choked out.

He belatedly realized that he was crying, but he couldn't be embarrassed by his tears. If anyone deserved his tears, his laughter, his heart, his everything; it was Foggy.

"Hey, Matt, shhh, it's okay. I'm alright. You knew I was missing less than a day after it happened, and you saved me. Everything's okay," Foggy soothed.

He tried to reach out for Matt, but he hissed in pain and aborted the gesture.

"Careful," Matt cautioned, as he reached out and gently took Foggy's hand.

"Then come here, so I can hug you. Don't cry in front of me, Murdock, unless you plan to let me comfort you," Foggy admonished.

Matt carefully moved so his upper body was in front of Foggy, and let himself be hugged, wrapping his own arms gently around Foggy, avoiding any pressure, as if he were made of eggshells. This time Foggy didn't make any pained noises, but he could hear him clenching his jaw to keep them in, and the slight uptick in his heart rate caused by the pain.

"Maybe we should wait on the hugging until you've had more time to heal," he said gently as he pulled back cautiously.

"You don't get enough hugs, Murdock. If you need one, you need one. But, I think that might be all I can do for now. 

I'm going to take a nap, if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind. I'll be here when you wake up."

Foggy hummed in affirmation, and was snoring less than five minutes later.

Matt sat next to him and kept watch. He'd taken Foggy for granted once; he wasn't going to do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know Claire left Metro General in S2, but she is still working there in this fic. You can decided if she never left, or if she got her job back.


	7. Love?

Matt seemed to try to keep their conversations light for the next couple of days. They talked about movies, local gossip from Bess, what was new with the Nelson clan, and some of the more stupid criminals Matt had faced without getting too heavily into the Daredevil thing.

Foggy wondered if they were avoiding the half-a-dozen elephants in the room because Matt was worried that their previous emotionally fraught conversation had been too much for Foggy, (and honestly, it had exhausted him), or if he was just avoiding his feelings. It really could have been either. Matt could be very protective, but he also didn't really know how to deal with emotions in any way other than stuffing them down and pretending they didn't exist.

"I'm sorry, are we not going to talk about this?" Foggy blurted out, after Matt finished telling him about the gossip he could overhear from the nurse's station.

"Talk about what?" Matt asked, furrowing his brows.

"Well, for starters, what are we? 

Are we friends again? 

Are you just my friendly local vigilante making sure I'm okay post-rescue? 

Are you an acquaintance who's being neighborly by sitting with me while I'm in the hospital?

Are we like a divorced couple, where they're always there for each other when things get bad, because underneath all the bitterness they still care for each other, but once they're back on their feet they don't want anything to do with each other again?"

The furrow in Matt's brow increased.

"Are those my only options?"

"I don't know! I was just throwing some ideas out there. Maybe you have a different idea. That's why we should talk about it."

"I guess we're friends again . . . .if that's okay with you."

It would be easy to mistake the way he trailed off as uncertainty that Foggy would want to rekindle their friendship, but Foggy knew better.

"But that's not what you want . . .so what _do_ you want, Matty?"

Matt squirmed in his chair for a few moments before he admitted, "I want whatever you'll give me, Foggy. I know I have no right to ask for anything from you, but I've missed you, and I want you back in my life; whatever way you'll have me."

"What do you mean 'you have no right to ask for anything from me'? 

I know we didn't exactly end on the best of terms, but that wasn't all your fault."

Matt shook his head vehemently.

"You might have been the one who left, but _I'm_ the one who pushed you away. _I'm_ the one who told you that you were better off without me. You didn't reach out after we closed the practice, like you said, but only because I heavily implied that you shouldn't.

I ended things between us, and I hurt you in the process. You have every right to tell me to get lost, and I wouldn't blame you if you did."

"I don't want you to get lost. I've missed you too, and I want you back in my life. I want to be friends again . . .but I know you. You didn't sound nervous when you said we could be friends again because you thought I was going to say 'no.' You had something else in mind; so what do you want?"

"It isn't about what I want . . ."

"It is. Because I asked you."

"I . . .I'd . . . .Everything," Matt whispered reluctantly.

"'Everything?'" Foggy repeated in confusion.

Matt nodded weakly, and Foggy's mind raced as he realized what Matt was saying, ( _he is absolutely not saying what I think he is; that would be impossible_ )

"You should be more careful with your words, buddy. Someone might get the wrong idea when you start throwing around words like 'everything'."

"What wrong idea is that? That I love you? That I've loved you for years? That I want you more than anything, but I'm afraid that I was an idiot and I lost my chance?"

"Something like that."

"Then you don't have the wrong idea at all. I meant what I said."

"No, no, no. No, Matt, no. You don't get to do that," Foggy said frantically as he shook his head vigorously.

"Do what?" Matt asked defensively.

"I love you. You _know_ I love you. I told you that I did."

Matt swallowed hard, remembering the circumstances that led to Foggy's confession.

"I remember."

"So you don't get say things like that. Not when you don't mean them. Not when you're only saying them because you feel guilty and you want to, I don't know, manipulate me into forgiving you or something by exploiting my feelings for you."

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know!"

Foggy wanted to escaped. His breath was coming in short pants, and he was sure he was on the verge of a panic attack.

This didn't make sense. He'd been sure. He'd been so sure that Matt hadn't cared anymore. They'd both made mistakes leading up to their separation, but Matt had been so cold. He'd acted like he barely even _liked_ Foggy; how could he claim that he _**loved**_ him? 

"I'm scaring you," Matt said miserably.

"No . . .it's just . . ."

"I can hear your heartbeat, remember?"

He reached out to take Foggy's hand, hoping that the contact would help, (though he couldn't be sure it wouldn't make things worse). Foggy didn't reject the offer, so he interlaced their fingers and started trailing his thumb over the back of Foggy's hand.

"Okay, so you're scaring me . . .which, by the way, the heartbeat thing doesn't help . . .I just don't know what to make of this. I don't know why you would lie about this, but it can't . . .it's not . . . Okay, let's say I take you at your word. . . .where were you?

If you love me, where were you when I was scared, and bleeding, and I _needed you_ , after I was shot?"

"I went to see Fisk . . .the whole thing reeked of his influence, Castle escaping after being assigned to Cell Block D couldn't be a coincidence . . . . You were hurt because of something I dragged you into, so I had to try to fix it. I had to make sure going forward you were safe, because I'd already failed to protect you once."

"Bullshit."

"What?!?"

"You didn't fail to protect me. At least not when I got shot.

You pushed me out of the way. If you hadn't done that, that bullet would have gone straight through my heart instead of through my shoulder. You saved my life."

Matt's breath caught at the reminder of how close he had come to losing Foggy, (twice now). He squeezed his hand for a moment, and then continued to stroke the back of it.

"See, you almost died because of a case I dragged you into."

"No, I almost died because a lunatic with a gun opened fired on the DA's office. That wasn't your fault."

"I . . . "

"What was your fault, was leaving me behind to wonder how I could mean so little to you that I didn't even merit comfort. . . I was _terrified_ , Matty! 

Reyes was shot to death in front of us! A bullet missed my heart by inches! Inches that it wouldn't have missed by, if wasn't for a well-timed shove! 

I needed you, and you abandoned me!"

Matt looked both chastised and worried as Foggy's words struck home. He seemed to be on the verge of saying something, but stood from his chair instead, and quickly closed the distance between them. Then, he sat on the edge of the bed, and twisted awkwardly to gently wrap up Foggy in a hug.

This time, the hug barely hurt; which may have been because Foggy had grown more used to the all-over pain in his body over the last few days, or because Matt was somehow clinging to him and being impossibly gentle at the same time. Either way, Foggy let himself settle into it.

Matt shushed him softly, clearly trying to calm him down, (which was probably a good idea; Foggy hadn't realized how fast or hard his heart was pounding until Matt's body blocked its escape from his chest). He ran a hand over Foggy's hair, his face a picture of tender concern as he appeared to pour all he had into comforting Foggy.

It was all very confusing. He would have given anything to have Matt respond this way when he was shot, though he hadn't expected it. He would have been content if Matt had just held his hand or sat beside him for awhile. Any token of comfort would have done, but he'd offered nothing. Now, Foggy was left to wonder if this sudden outpouring of affection was motivated by guilt or by true concern.

"I needed to not be alone," Foggy whispered into Matt's neck. "I needed someone to tell me everything was okay, even if it was lie. I needed _you_ , and you _left_ me like I didn't matter at all."

"Foggy, I, I didn't know," Matt quietly pleaded, "You seemed so calm. Your voice didn't shake, you told me you'd be okay . . .I mean, your heart was racing, but you were in pain and bleeding, so that was to be expected. . . . I didn't know. I didn't know. I'm sorry. I would have never . . .I didn't want . . .you matter to me. More than anything. I'm so sorry I didn't understand."

Foggy sighed.

"For the record, the next time I say, 'he says I'll be fine,' it does _not_ mean I'm okay. It means, 'he says I'll be fine, but it really doesn't feel like it; however, if I admit that, I'm going to fall apart, and I can't afford to do that. I won't be able to stop, and I'll scare you and Karen even more, and probably work myself into a panic attack.'"

"I was supposed to get all of that from 'he says I'll be fine'?"

"I thought you would at least get some of it! But even if you didn't, I thought the 'Matt, don't' when you tried to walk away was pretty self-explanatory . . .but you thought it was another anti-Daredevil dig, which to be fair, you weren't entirely wrong. 

I didn't want you to go do your Daredevil thing. Partially because, after all that had happened the last thing I wanted to do was worry about you throwing yourself right back into danger, but mainly because I wanted you to stay. 

I wasn't saying 'Matt, don't be Daredevil,' I was saying 'Matt, don't leave me'."

"Then why didn't you say that?"

"I didn't think I had to . . .and honestly? After all that had happened between us, I was afraid you'd leave anyway . . .and if I would have asked you plainly, and you denied me, I think it would have broken me.

I think it broke me a little anyway that you picked the mask over me. It told me that I came a distant second, if even that, or you simply didn't care. . . .so I got angry, and I said things I shouldn't have, and made everything worse."

"Oh Foggy . . ." Matt said gently, reaching out to cup his cheek and run his thumb tenderly over his cheekbone. "After all these years, how could you think I didn't care about you?"

"Other than that you were doing your darnedest to push me away? . . .you left," his voice broke, and he gathered himself for a second and then continued. "You walked away while I was still bleeding from a hole that had just been ripped through my body, and then you never came to see me while I was in the hospital. Not even once.

If it were you in the position I was in, wild horses couldn't have dragged me away from your side. I would have _never_ left you there alone, even though I've seen you hurt far worse. It never would have even crossed my mind."

"I know. You're always taking care of me," Matt replied shaking his head fondly. "Sometimes too much."

"No such thing, Murdock."

Matt looked ready to argue, but seemed to think better of it, and planted a soft kiss to Foggy's forehead instead, (which Foggy wasn't sure if he should consider patronizing or affectionate, but he was tired, so he'd let it go for the moment).

"I'm going to take better care of you, Foggy. I promise. You'll never have reason to doubt how much you mean to me again."


	8. The talk

After a week long hiatus, Matt resumed his activities as Daredevil. He went out that night ready to hit someone. All the fear, anger and pain that the last seven days had dredged up needed an outlet, and whichever unfortunate ne'er-do-wells found their way into his path were in for an unpleasant experience. Unfortunately for Matt, the men he encountered seemed just as eager for a fight.

They were drug runners, and he had hit their organization before, costing them in both manpower and product. So, one of their leaders had threatened to "find whoever he loved, and make sure they met with a painful and violent end." It was a desperate, general attempt at posturing, especially since Matt was fairly certain they didn't know who he was. However, with the week Matt had had, he might as well have threatened Foggy by name.

Unbidden, remembrances of clammy, blood-tacky skin beneath his fingertips, a body going limp in his arms, and the sound of a weak, hummingbird fast heartbeat, filled his mind. No! No one would ever touch Foggy again. Not if Matt had anything to say about it.

Fueled by rage and fear, Matt's attacks became more vicious. They also became more sloppy. Part of his mind was distracted by thoughts of Foggy, and that allowed his opponents to back him up against a wall. 

They were able to land several heavy blows before he regained the upper hand. The worst of which, drove the air out of his lungs as they impacted his sides.

In the end, Matt prevailed, but he left with bruises up and down his torso and several cracked ribs. He was fairly certain none of them were broken though, despite how much it hurt to breathe, so he went straight home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You're hurt," Foggy stated as Matt winced his way into a chair early the next morning. 

"I'm fine," Matt dismissed.

"How many ribs did you break last night?" he questioned over the dismissal.

"I don't have any broken ribs. I'm fine."

"Yet you haven't unfurrowed your brow since you got here, and you look like you want to cry any time you take a normal breath instead of those shallow, careful little half-breaths you're trying to pass off as normal. Matty, you're not fine. . . .are you _sure_ you didn't break any ribs?"

"I'm sure. Now, just drop it, Fog."

"Did you ice your ribs? Take something for the pain? . . .you didn't wrap them, right? Because that used to be what they suggested, but now they've found that wrapping just restricts your breathing and increases your chances of developing a chest infection."

"I . . .how did you know that?"

"First Aid classes. . . .so did you take care of your ribs?"

"I put ice on the bruises last night, and I took ibuprofen before I left this morning."

"Good. You should probably ice them again tonight. And they aren't wrapped?"

"No . . . . When did you take First Aid classes, Foggy?"

"After I found you on the roof. I didn't want to be unprepared the next time I found you hurt."

"You took First Aid classes for me?"

"Well, I know Claire is a better choice, being a nurse and all, but she's not always available. She has a job, and a life, outside of helping crazy vigilante types. So, I thought I should be prepared."

"You would do that for me? Even though you hate Daredevil?"

"What? I don't hate Daredevil."

"Foggy, you don't have to-"

"I don't. He's you. 

I don't completely understand why you do it, and I don't like the danger being a vigilante puts you in, but I could never hate you. No matter how hard it is for me to understand, or how much I worry. . .besides, he kinda saved my life. It would be pretty ungrateful of me to hate him after that."

"You don't hate Daredevil?" Matt asked again, sounding stunned.

"No," Foggy confirmed, his voice full of certainty, (and his heartbeat steady; it was the truth).

"I was so sure that you did. It was part of why I pushed you away."

"Since you brought it up, why did you push me away, Matty?"

"Because I felt like we were holding each other back."

"Matt, I-"

"No, Foggy, just listen.

I kept letting you down as a partner, and you were trying to stop me from doing what I needed to do to protect the city. It was causing tension between us. It seemed like we always at each other's throats, which not only hurt, but it was also taking time and focus away from more important things. 

I thought we'd both be free to do what we needed to do, if we just cut each other loose so we didn't weigh each other down. You wouldn't be in danger, or left to pick up my slack, and I wouldn't be constantly reminded of how disappointed in me you were, or how much you hated Daredevil and thus me, since we're one and the same. It seemed like it was for the best . . but I was wrong. You weren't any safer, which I am still so sorry about, and I missed you so much it almost drove me crazy."

"Oh Matty, I could never hate you. Not any part of you.

I'm not going to lie, I was disappointed in the way you kept failing to show up for me and our practice. You let me down on several occasions, and I was angry. But I still wanted to work through it. 

I wanted to find a way we could balance our legal life and your night life, and yes, ideally I would have loved for you to retire the mask, because then you'd be safe and I wouldn't have to worry all the time; but deep down I knew I couldn't expect that. I just wanted to find a way to go forward that would work for both of us."

"I should have known you being angry wasn't the same as you hating me, but I'm not exactly rational where you're concerned, and you kept walking away from me . . .and each time I thought, 'This is it. He's never coming back.' 

And that terrified me. The thought that the person I love most in the world could just leave me behind again . . . "

"Again? . . . Oh shit, Matty. I didn't think of that. I'm so sorry. I never meant to . . .bring any of that up. . . .okay, full truthfulness, I knew it would hurt you if I left after our big fight when I found out about your secret, and I did it anyway because I was so hurt at the time that I didn't care. But even then, I wasn't thinking about what that might drag up for you. I am so sorry, Matty.

I just was angry, and when I'm angry I say stupid things, as you've heard, and I didn't want to make things worse. I was just trying to get some space to cool down; to get my head together. I would never abandon you. 

You have to know that. I'm here for the long haul. For better or worse, Matty. I meant it then, and I still mean it now."

"I know, Foggy, and I should have known then. You were always there for me if I needed you, even when you were angry. 

You ran around the city to find me, and then dragged me home, even though you talked about how much you hated what I did at night earlier that morning. And you might have left after our fight, but you didn't leave until you knew I was okay. Your heart was breaking, but you stayed. You helped me get dressed, you made sure I drank enough water, you brought me food and pain relievers, and you sat and watched over me while I slept."

"I couldn't let anything happen to you. No matter how angry I am, I'll always take care of you. That's what you do for people you love."

"What did I ever do to deserve a good man like you? You're far too good for me."

"No, I'm not."

"You are. You're like the sun. It gives its light and its warmth indiscriminately. It can't help but shine. 

And sometimes the sun burns you, and it hurts, but without it, it's dark, and cold, and nothing grows. 

I was a fool to push the sun out of my life just because I got a little burned."

"What are you talking about?"

"I pushed you out of my life, and you still endured torture to protect me. All you had to do was give up my name, and they would have stopped, but you wouldn't tell them. You put me first, even after what I did to you."

"I couldn't betray you, I love you. What if they would have used that information to hurt you, or to expose you, or even to kill you!"

"You thought I didn't care about you, you said so yourself, and you were still willing to die in order to avoid betraying me! What possessed you to do that?!?"

"They would have killed me anyway as soon as they had what they wanted. Better I die protecting you than hurting you."

"How is that better?! Either way you'd be dead!"

"It wasn't like there was another alternative at the time."

Matt shook his head.

"How can you be so calm about that?!? _My_ enemies took you and you almost died! Why don't you blame me?!?" he shouted sounding almost angry.

"Because it's not your fault!" Foggy countered with a slight angry edge to his voice too . "I know you think everything is your fault, but _you_ didn't kidnap me, and _you_ didn't torture me."

"No, but they did it because of me. It's like you said; you didn't get a choice about this, but I dragged you into it anyway. And this time you almost paid with your life."

"But I _didn't_. I'm still here, Matty."

Matt sucked in a breath, and continued slightly softer, "But you did die. I . . . I heard your heart stop . . . In the ambulance, on the way to the hospital," he swallowed around a lump in his throat, "they, they got it restarted . . . but for almost two minutes, you had no heartbeat. You were dead.

And then, even after they got your heart beating again, I could tell they didn't think you were going to make it. The paramedics seemed surprised when they were able to pass you off, still alive, to the doctors in the ER.

Then everyone started rushing around you, and I went home to change, and by the time I got back, you were in surgery, and I couldn't hear you. Whatever they use to soundproof their ORs, it absorbs too much sound. So I sat, and I waited for hours, afraid that any minute they would come out and tell me that you were gone. I was convinced I was going to lose you. I was just waiting for the worst to happen, even as I prayed more fervently then I've ever prayed before that you would live.

When they finally came to talk to me, they said that you were in the ICU. They told me that even though they thought they had stopped all of the bleeding, and repaired most of the damage caused by the attack, that I shouldn't get my hopes up. 'Call anyone who needs to be here,' they said; because your heart had stopped again during surgery, and even though they were able to get it beating again, they thought your organs had been damaged by severe blood loss, and that you wouldn't live through the night.

So, I made the calls, and I went to sit by your side. I took your hand, and I counted each and every heartbeat, while I waited for them to fade to nothingness. I waited for the words, 'we're sorry, but despite our best efforts, Mr. Nelson died, there was nothing we could do.'"

"Matty . . ."

"I know it sounds morbid, to say I was waiting for you to die, but I was trying to steel myself. To prepare for the moment I lost you, so it wouldn't knock the wind out of me like it did while I was following the ambulance, or in the waiting room. So it wouldn't hurt so bad that it felt like I was dying too. . .but I realized that it was impossible for it to be any other way.

You weren't just the heart of Nelson & Murdock, you're _my_ heart . . .and you can't live without your heart. You just can't."

"Matty, I know you would have been hurt, but you would have been okay. Eventually. After some time to heal, you would have moved on. It would have been alright."

Matt was shaking his head vigorously before Foggy even finished speaking.

"You don't understand. I would have killed them," Matt said out of the blue; his voice cold and certain.

"What?!?"

Foggy didn't like where this was going.

"If you would have died, I would have killed the men who took you. I would have found them, and murdered them in cold blood. . .And I would have taken my time with them. I would have made sure it hurt. I would have made them beg for mercy, and then denied their pleas."

"Matt . . ." Foggy said, voice sounding small and frightened.

"When I found you, and I realized how badly they had hurt you; that they had _tortured_ you, I almost killed them anyway. . . . I wanted to."

"Matt . . ."

"You deserve to know, Foggy. Because while I know you would die for me, and I would do the same for you, I would also _kill_ for you. In your defense, or to avenge you.

I'm not saying I'm about to start a murder spree. I'm still fundamentally against killing people, but for you, I would. I would commit murder, and if it was to protect you, I wouldn't even feel guilty about it for a moment . . .and if I was too late to protect you, I'd be too lost in grief to care.

I'm a violent man, with the devil inside him, and _you_ are the angel who keeps the devil in check. If you're taken from me, the devil takes over. It's that simple.

. . .and I'm not saying that to pressure you into staying with me. In fact, you should probably run as far away from me as you can, you're far too good and gentle to chain yourself to the likes of me . . .but you deserve to know."

"I'm the sun, I'm your heart, I'm an angel; you're really mixing your metaphors there, Matt," Foggy joked nervously, unsure what to say.

"Foggy," he responded flatly.

"What do you want me to say? That's terrifying . . . .you just admitted you would tortured and kill someone in my name. That's not good. It's very, very bad, and it's sick!"

"I understand . . . . ."

"But, honestly, what's even more sick? I'm kinda glad to know you care that much."

"Of course I do! I love you, Foggy. With everything I have. Including the darkest parts."

"Yeah, I believe you now . . . I mean, I'm also a little disturbed by knowing what that means, and very eager to keep the murder-y bits of you locked up tight, but I believe you.

. . .and while I know there's darkness in you, that's only a small part of who you are. 

You're mostly about justice, and fairness, and standing up for those who can't stand up for themselves. As a lawyer, as a vigilante, and just as a man in your everyday life. 

Yes, you have a temper, which I've known since pretty much the day I met you . . .and apparently you also have some really dark, twisty corners, or the devil in you, or whatever you want to call it; which I learned about a lot more recently . . .but for the most part, you're a good man. . .and devil or no, you're still the man I fell in love with.

I love you. And if you'll have me, I'd like to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Was that a proposal?"

"We're already married, remember? We had a beautiful ceremony over a napkin at Josie's."

"Of course, how could I forget?" Matt chuckled; he took a deep breath, "Seriously though, are we doing this? You and me?"

"Yeah. We're doing this," Foggy confirmed with a smile in his voice.

"Good," Matt said.

He leaned forward and kissed Foggy's cheek, and then snagged his hand on his way back to his chair. He held onto Foggy's hand with both of his, not intending to let go anytime soon. Much like his intentions for Foggy himself.


End file.
